


as always

by Nara_stories



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Intersex!Alex, M/M, Menstruation Kink, Pain, RWW, Sibling Incest, Slurs, Vaginal Fingering, attempted "corrective" surgery, filthy depraved porn with an unnecessary amount of backstory, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nara_stories/pseuds/Nara_stories
Summary: Alex had always been special.
Relationships: Alex Randall/Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	as always

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for myself. I wasn't going to post this but then changed my mind because there is a marginally small chance that there might be other similarly depraved souls who might enjoy this. Read the tags. If you do decide to read this, bring a healthy amount of suspension of disbelief and optionally a coping beverage of choice.

Alex had always been special. Jack was ten years old, only a boy himself, when Alex was born, yet he remembered that day vividly.

He wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having another sibling. Babies were useless, fragile things and they cried all the time. After his mother stopped screaming and the newborn started to scream instead, they let his father, Edward and Jack into the room. He remembered the stench of blood and sweat and wondering why he had to be there. But the others weren’t looking happy either. Jack frowned and cautiously peered around his elder brother. Something was wrong.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked, mildly curious. Of course, he thought, it would be even worse if it was a girl. If it were a boy at least he would grow out of the crying and the stupidity.

His mother looked frightened when he glanced at him. His father’s expression went through a series of intense emotions and his face began to look red, which was always a bad sign.  
“What have you done?” he hissed, though Jack couldn’t remember if it was directed to the midwife or to his mother.

They started arguing, and since no one answered his question, Jack stepped up to the cradle, where they laid the baby. He looked inside. His breath hitched, and he instantly forgot about everything else.

Alex was perfect.

He was so small, and so pink, a squirming little bundle of tiny limbs and huge blue eyes. He vaguely realized the reason for the adults’ confusion. The baby didn’t look like either a boy or a girl. Alex seemed to be a little bit of both and Jack heard the midwife stutter out a term he never heard before: a hermaphrodite.

“We can fix it,” the midwife cried out. Jack’s father had seized her by the arms. Jack, who had been subject to his father’s anger knew it would only be a matter of time before he started to beat her. She knew it too. “I can make it look like a girl’s. Or… or a boy’s. What… whatever you want.”

At first, Jack didn’t understand what she meant, he was too busy staring down at that small bundle of wonder that was staring back at him with unblinking eyes, blue as the summer sky. Then, he caught a glimpse of firelight glinting on the edge of a blade and suddenly he realized what they were about to do.

They were going to hurt Alex. They were going to cut his perfect little angel.

He snatched Alex up from the cradle and ran out of the room.

He didn’t recall much else from that night. He only remembered Alex’s alarmed cry and the hiccuping little sobs it subsided into when he tucked him against his chest, wrapped the cloth around him gently and rocked him clumsily. His father’s angry yells as he chased him around the estate. But his father was old and slow by then, while Jack young and quick. He remembered hiding in dark corners, his own tears running down his face. It was the first time he wasn’t only worried about his own safety.

He vowed he would never let anyone hurt the perfect little creature in his arms.

His father’s anger slowly turned into pleading arguments. It was for the best. While the baby was small, it wouldn’t feel a thing. No man would want a wife who looked like that between the legs, and the midwife was fairly sure Alex would be able to bear children, hence wasn’t really a man. Jack thought they were stupid. Who cared if Alex was a boy or a girl? Anyone who didn’t see how perfect Alex was could go to hell. Jack would send them himself.

He kept hiding and he didn’t let them touch the baby.

That was the first time Jack won a fight against his father and he was dizzy with the victory.

“Fine,” his father said. They would raise Alex as a boy. “But you’ll be the one explaining it when your brother starts growing breasts,” he said with contempt.

When Jack reluctantly gave Alex back to their mother to nurse, he felt an instant pang of disappointment at being separated. His mother looked somewhat frightened. Not just from their father. From Alex. Jack hated her at that moment.

He barely left Alex alone with anyone, even their mother in the first few weeks, afraid that they would hurt him.

His mother seemed bemused with his obsession. Perhaps she thought he would grow out of it.

“You like... him?” she asked. Jack didn’t look at her. Alex wrapped one of his tiny fists around his forefinger and giggled up at him. He was unable to look away.

“He’s perfect,” Jack whispered stupidly, reverently.

***

Alex did not grow breasts. Well, only a little bit and as always, when something bothered him he went to Jack about it. And as always, Jack kissed his forehead and told him he was absolutely perfect. He made him look at himself in the mirror and described to him just how utterly gorgeous he was from his fine brown hair, hazel eyes and straight nose to his Adam’s apple and his slightly raised, pink nipples, until Alex was furiously blushing and Jack was aching with how much he wanted to kiss every inch of that porcelain skin.

He knew his obsession with his brother wasn’t natural. That other’s didn’t feel even a fraction of that fierce protectiveness he felt for Alex.

But Alex was special.

He wore boy clothes, climbed trees and sat on a horse confidently. His voice cracked and he learned to throw punches, and Jack had bloodied quite a few noses of other boys who found something to tease him about.

Still, Alex wasn’t completely like other boys.

Alex was around twelve – their father long dead, Edward running the estate -, when one afternoon Jack found him lying on his bed, visibly in pain.

He was curled up in a little ball with his hands wrapped around his middle.

“I think I’m dying,” he whimpered when Jack rushed to him, alarmed. He said his belly was hurting. When Jack asked him how, he described it as a cramping, agonizing pain he never felt before, not even when he gorged himself on gooseberries that one summer.

It took Jack a while to figure out what it was. He almost sent to the doctor when he saw the blood. But then he remembered their mother complaining every month and that Alex was different. Special.

In his haste, he tore up one of his own shirts into rags. He took off Alex’s breeches himself to see that he was indeed bleeding from that part of him that was like a woman’s.

He knew very little about what to do, but together they figured it out. He helped Alex tie the rags between his legs, hugged him close to comfort him and told him it would all go away in a few days hoping he was right.

***

Alex learned to live with it. It didn’t happen every month, but when it did, he always went to Jack for comfort and help.

“Oh, Johnny, it hurts,” he whimpered, turning his face into Jack’s shirt. He was sitting in his lap, long legs almost touching the floor. The days were long gone where he had been shy about complaining. Jack always encouraged him to tell him exactly where, how and how much it hurt. Alex didn’t need to suck it up and pretend to be fine and Jack didn’t have to conceal how much it thrilled him to hear all the gory details of his pain. There were no secrets between them.

“It’s alright, darling.”

He stroked the smooth, straight hair out of his brother’s face. For a better man seeing someone he loved in pain would have woken feelings of sympathy. Jack felt only fascination.

Alex had always been beautiful. In terms of physical appearance, the two of them looked more alike than their oldest brother. Alex, however, was still smooth-faced even after his eighteenth birthday and inherited their mother’s fair skin and slenderness. His face was currently contorted in pain, which did nothing to reduce his beauty. Not in Jack’s eyes at least.

He would, of course, never hurt Alex. Seeing him in pain, however, gave him a thrill like nothing else. Jack liked to see men suffer. It peeled back the layers of their personalities and he could glimpse their soul.

Alex was as beautiful as ever. Jack only wished he could be the one to inflict and therefore control the level of pain. Now, he would give him a rest. Comfort him with sweet touches. Let his body relax fully, before giving him another dose of pain. Sometimes suddenly. Sometimes just softly, starting off as a whisper that would soon crescendo in a scream.

But it wasn’t up to him. The pain seemed to come in natural waves. Alex would whimper and squirm, trying to find a position where he didn’t cramp as much. He would find a few moments of respite, never relaxing fully before it would start again.

Jack would do it so much better. It made him annoyed at first, but recently, they have found something that allowed him to have some control over Alex’s pain.

“It will pass,” he murmured into Alex’s ear. “Don’t fight it.”

Alex sniffed. 

“I can’t take it any more, Johnny. Please make it stop.”

Jack rubbed the small of his back. He knew now how to make it stop, and the heady power in that made him hold back just a touch longer.

“Yes, you can take it,” he insisted. “You’re so strong, look at you.”

He meant it. But Alex was whimpering quietly, and Jack could never resist him for long when he was begging for his help.

He took his hand and slowly smoothed his palm over Alex’s belly, right where he always described it hurting. Alex melted under his touch and hummed appreciatively.

“So warm,” he mumbled, turning his head and nuzzling into the side of Jack’s neck. Jack smiled and slid his hand under his shirt so that he could place it back where it was, this time skin on skin. Alex practically purred. He loved being touched like this when he was in pain.

After a while, he started squirming again, but this time it seemed more out of anticipation. Jack knew exactly what he was thinking. He took a shaking breath, feeling the anticipation rise in him too. He slid his hand lower, cupping Alex through his breeches and the rags he had tied between his legs.

Alex moaned and gave a little roll of his hips. Jack buried his nose in Alex’s hair and took a few minutes just petting and squeezing him. With so much material, he could barely feel anything, but it always reminded him of the first time his morbid curiosity and Alex’s need for comfort pushed them to do this. It still made his pulse quicken just like the first time.

He unlaced Alex’s breeches, and Alex pushed them down himself. Jack loosened the knot on the rags, and let Alex settle back into his lap. He wrapped his left arm securely around his waist and slowly, very slowly slid his right hand underneath the rags, into the wet warmth awaiting him there.

Alex was velvety smooth between the legs with a tiny prick that stiffened under Jack’s touch. Below, tucked under equally tiny balls were a few curious folds, like an exotic flower, and his hidden, most secret opening that sometimes bled like a woman. His skin was slick with blood, making it easy for Jack to explore and to stroke him.

After a few minutes, he pulled his hand away, only to see his brother’s bright blood on his fingers. But that wasn’t enough. He brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted it.

Alex whimpered at the loss, flush high on his cheekbones. Jack slid his fingers back, now his own spit slicking the way even more. He learned that Alex was needy when he started bleeding. He sometimes let Jack do this for hours, arouse him with small, relentless touches, then slowly back away, keeping him buzzing with pleasure that seemed to counteract the pain.

He slid his finger down to his opening. It was small, but slick with blood and he could easily push his finger inside. Alex let out a debauched moan that made Jack’s own prick stiffen. He stopped at the first knuckle and waited. Alex whimpered, biting his lip. Jack could feel his muscles relax around his finger.

“Oh, Johnny, please,” Alex begged with a desperate roll of his hips, as always. Jack chuckled, and indulged him, as always.

He pushed in further, sliding his whole finger into his hot body as far as it would go. He was very tight, a perfect fit for his finger, but nothing more.

Their father would have married him off as a girl and would have made him take a man’s cock. The though infuriated Jack beyond measure. Alex was his. Only his. Even he wouldn’t try to fuck him like that, even though the image of that almost made him come on the spot.

Alex threw his head back with a gasp and Jack nipped at his neck playfully. Perhaps he could eventually take his arse instead. He had yet to introduce Alex to that side of pleasure. He could fuck him, deep and slow, while keeping his finger in his other hole. He stifled a moan in Alex’s shoulder imagining it.

Alex was practically dripping by now, his tiny, hard prick tucked into Jack’s palm and his soft, inviting folds opening for his finger. He smelled divine too, all sweet arousal and coppery blood. Jack mentally noted that next time he had to persuade him to let him put his head between his legs when he was bleeding like this. He wanted to bury his face there and lick at Alex until he trembled. He wanted to explore his uniqueness and let him smear his lips and cheeks with his blood. Their blood. Jack knew he was going to hell for that thought alone, not to mention his actions. He couldn’t care less. It was the most gorgeously filthy thought and it made Jack rock-hard in his breeches.

He moved his finger in and out steadily, stroking at Alex’s sensitive walls. He loved the obscene, squelching sound it made. Alex’s body told him all that he needed to know. He just had to listen to his little gasps, feel the way he shivered to know when and where to press harder. It was something he perfected, and he enjoyed every second of it, until Alex fell apart with a cry, his hole fluttering rhythmically as he came. Jack stroked him through his orgasm, and a little bit after, only stopping when Alex shifted away, sensitive.

Then he slowly pulled his finger out, and wiped it on one of the rags. The blood settled under his fingernail and in the cracks of his knuckles and he didn’t try to scrub it off. He helped to wipe most of the blood away from Alex though, and tie fresh, clean rags between his legs. Alex didn’t bother with the breeches. He curled back into his arms with a soft sigh and an even softer smile.

Then he reached up and pulled Jack down to him. He kissed him on the mouth, without a drop of shame or hesitation. Jack kissed back long and gentle.

He was still hard, but it didn’t matter. It was more like an afterthought really, compared to watching the tides of Alex’s pleasure and pain play out. He would take care of it later, while alone in his room, replaying these events in his mind. For now, he would see if Alex could sleep, or if he needed him longer.

After all, Alex, his angel, came first. As always.

**Author's Note:**

> Lastly, I just wanted to say that I did put research into this, more than I would normally do for some PWP. My sincerest hope is that I haven't offended anyone with this.


End file.
